


Quirks of Fate

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Crack Treated Seriously, Dom John Sheppard, Don't Like Don't Read, John the Gentle Dom, Light BDSM, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: In a world where no one knows what BDSM is, can John Sheppard finally learn to embrace his kink?Narrator: yes, in fact, he can.John: but how can I accept this part of me?Narrator: figure it out already and give your boyfriend the spanking he deserves.John: Rodney, put down the mic.





	Quirks of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).



> For Popkin16 for her birthday! The long-promised spanking fic. Happy birthday, buddy.
> 
> Aliens Make John Spank Rodney! But this is pretty darn consensual. Disciplinary spanking is a regular part of this universe, and they both have a kink. Please be warned that spicy spanking occurs as a result, and if you don't like, don't read.
> 
> WARNING: UNBETAED AND POSTED AT 5AM SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK :D

"So, you want the crappy news first, or the really crappy news?" Sheppard said as the guard let him into Rodney's room. 

"What? They're still mad?" Rodney clenched his hands together. "It was a bite of stew! It's not like I stole the Mona Lisa!"

"It was very sacred stew," Sheppard said soberly. "That place setting was reserved for the Ancestors—"

"Yes, yes, I know." Rodney said. "No re-hash necessary—"

"And you figured, ooh, I'll do someone a favor and eat their dinner for them—"

"All right already! Kick a guy when he's down!" Rodney waited a moment before asking tentatively, "So, what crappy news do you have for me?"

John grimaced. "Well, we tried to tell 'em it was an honest mistake—" 

"It was! How was I supposed to know—it's not like they put place cards down: 'This Setting Reserved for Glowing Squids.'"

John cracked a smile. "Right. But unless you want to crap on the trade opportunity, we're going to have to go with a standard round of discipline. They're pretty set on it."

"Discipline." Rodney sat down heavily on the bench attached to the wall. It was a nice bench—the cell as a whole was clean, well-lit, and painted a particularly pleasing shade of orange. Which would be wonderful if Rodney weren't deathly allergic. "Administered by you? Not by them?"

"Yeah. Nothing too severe," Sheppard said earnestly. Oh, if only he knew. "In fact, I explained to them I'm trained in handling disciplinary matters for our own people, and they said they were cool with me handing out the strokes myself."

Rodney shivered, his nipples going instantly hard. 

"I thought Lorne did all the punishment on the military side. Don't you want to call in Lorne?"

"Very funny," Sheppard said, sounding offended. "I handle the military discipline on Atlantis, thanks a lot." 

Rodney suppressed a groan at the thought. 

"McKay?" Sheppard looked concerned, his puppyish eyes ridiculously wide. 

"That's terrific," Rodney said quickly. "Marvelous. I mean, of course, Elizabeth would be better, since usually she metes out civilian discipline." Not that Rodney had allowed her to lay a hand on him. No, he'd taken countless notes in his file, and Elizabeth had docked his salary no less than twelve times—a joke, since they were all going to die out here among the Wraith, who were they kidding? 

"...twenty with a strap and then we're out of here."

"What was that?" Rodney said. 

John cocked his head. "I said, we'll go to the Hall of Discipline, the mayor will say a few mean words, you'll drop trou and I'll give you twenty. Then we're out of here. Sound good?"

"Yes. Good. Great."

"And the crappier news. The discipline has to be witnessed by the mayor, the discipline master, and a security officer, to make sure I do it right, and you don't skip out or anything."

"Fine. Fine," Rodney said. How could it get worse?

It was already going to be a disaster.

:::

McKay was acting weird. And not the good, fun weird where he'd wave his hands and trip over his own feet, babbling entertainingly about shit John didn't give a good goddamn about, because who the hell wanted to know the first semiconductor diodes were called "cat's whiskers" and were made of mineral crystals? Well, maybe that was a little bit interesting, but that wasn't the point.

Because right now Rodney was babbling about maybe there was a problem with his briefs and his socks didn't match so he'd rather not take his shoes off. He was acting like he'd never been disciplined before.

"I'm sure it will be fine, Rodney," John said, putting his hand on Rodney's shoulder to push him forward a little. Rodney was shuffling—another bad sign—only he positively jumped when John touched him, and he was summer hot under John's hand. John leaned forward and said quietly, out of the hearing of the security tailing them, "You holding up, buddy?"

"Fine, I'm fine," Rodney replied irritably. "Let's just get this over with."

John saw Ronon and Teyla exchanging looks. They didn't like it that they wouldn't be allowed in the hall, but John had promised they could guard the doors. 

"We'll be waiting here," Ronon assured Rodney, giving him a clap on the back. 

"Could've been you, you know. You like a nice, beefy stew as much as I do," Rodney said resentfully and trudged up the stairs. John gave Teyla a nod and followed Rodney up into the spacious hall with its light green walls and large glass windows. The glassworks here were the reason Atlantis was so interested in trading with the Salinians.

"Welcome back, Colonel Sheppard." 

Discipline Master Toma was a round little woman with a long, arched nose. She'd seemed pretty reasonable about the whole thing when John met with her earlier.

John shook her hand. "The mayor?"

"Will be here shortly. This is the discipline stick," Toma said, handing John a flat length of what felt like heavy acrylic. It looked a lot like a yardstick, and almost gave John a sensory flashback to Catholic school. "We use it for minor infractions, not that seating oneself at the place of the Ancestors is considered anything but a serious infraction." She leveled a stern look over her nose at Rodney, who shuffled closer behind John.

"I've never used one of these before," John said. "I'll need a moment." 

"Take your time," Toma said. "Jovas will wait here while I will prepare the area." The security guard went to stand by the doors. John eyeballed him before stripping off his uniform blouse and dropping it on a bench, leaving on just his thin black undershirt. 

"What are you doing?" Rodney asked him.

"Got to test this thing out," John said, stepping away from Jovas' curious eyes. "I'm not going to use it on you unless I know what it feels like."

"Oh." 

John looked up at the tone of Rodney's voice. Rodney looked surprised and pleased. "Well, don't take too long," he said grudgingly. "I want to get this over with."

"I bet you do," John said. He held out his arm and smacked it hard with the slat. It made a flat, smacking sound and, yeah, the sting was just like Sister Mary Catherine's ruler. He could practically see her pale red eyebrows arched beneath that habit of hers. Man, what he would have given to turn the tables on her way back when.

He gave it ten good wallops just to be sure, then pushed up his sleeve. The result was what he expected: mild surface bruising, nothing serious. This was lighter punishment than what the civilian HR doled out on a regular basis. Rodney should have nothing to complain about; except of course, he would anyway. 

John was looking forward to it, actually. In fact, this whole thing had him pumped up, and he wasn't exactly sure why. 

He looked up from examining his arm and caught a weird expression on Rodney's face. 

"You ready?" John asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Not too late to back out. There are other glass makers, you know. And if they're this touchy about a bowl of stew, maybe we don't want to partner up with 'em."

"No. No! I don't want to back out," Rodney said, lifting his chin. "I'm ready."

"Atta boy. C'mon." John took Rodney by the arm and guided him back to where Toma and the mayor were waiting.

"Colonel," Mayor Arviles said. "Doctor McKay." 

"Mayor," John said, nudging Rodney.

"I apologize for my error," Rodney said grouchily. "I beg the forgiveness of the Ancestors." 

The mayor let out a grunt of approval. "The Ancestors are all wise and forgiving," he said, pressing his palms together. "I am certain, with your penance," Arviles added piously, "they will forbear punishing us and blighting our crops."

John didn't dare look at Rodney's face.

"I'm sure they will be happy with Rodney's punishment," John said. 

"Better sooner than later," Rodney added. "Don't you think?"

"I will have some words to add," Toma said. "But please proceed."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Rodney muttered as he trudged up to the high table. John followed, a little confused until Rodney unfastened his uniform pants and let them drop."

The hole in his boxer briefs wasn't a surprise. The Space Invaders crawling up and down his ass were. 

"Cute," John said. 

Rodney's ears turned pink as he bent over the table and grabbed the edge. John took in the view of Rodney's ass and held back a groan. The holes was right over his left butt cheek, probably where he used to keep his wallet. The skin under it was pale pink, and it made Rodney's plump, round butt look vulnerable. 

And great—John was getting a hard-on staring at McKay's ass. Perfect. He could feel his dick nosing at the gap in his boxers. Tugging at his pants, he shook a leg out and tried to remember he was a professional. 

"You have presented yourself for punishment," the discipline master said to Rodney. "The sentence is twenty strokes. In receiving this discipline, your record will be clean of any transgression." He nodded to John.

John stepped to Rodney's left and put a hand on his back. "Do you acknowledge acceptance of your discipline?"

"Yes," Rodney said, too softly for the others to hear. John tapped him, and he said again, much louder, "Yes, I do."

John lifted his head and met Arviles' eyes. "Mayor, do you witness on behalf of the transgressed?"

"Yes, I will."

"Then I'll begin." John set himself, then drew back his arm and let Rodney have it, counting off each blow. For the first couple, he was focused on making the best possible strikes, on the sound of the slat smacking Rodney's meaty behind, on the way Rodney's breath whined through his throat as he tried not to gasp too loudly. 

John felt warm for no good reason.

And then Rodney broke protocol and started to squirm, his ass jiggling. John faltered on his next shot, almost hitting off-true. He paused and looked over; Rodney's face and neck were bright red, his hands clenched hard on the table.

The blows weren't even that hard. He shouldn't be in any distress. John leaned in and said, "You doing okay? We're not even halfway done here, buddy."

Rodney blew out his breath and said, "I'm fine; it's fine. Keep going."

"Really? 'Cause you seem really—oh." John looked away from the front of Rodney's briefs. That certainly explained a lot. John had heard about this sort of thing—read about it in textbooks, about penitents who got turned on by being disciplined. He'd never encountered one before, though. According to the manual, John should stop discipline immediately and switch to an alternate punishment—make Rodney run laps or stand in a corner holding weights at arms' length for twenty minutes. 

But John couldn't do that. Couldn't embarrass Rodney that way. And it might damage their relationship with the Salinians.

"Just hang in there," John said softly, getting back into position.

Strokes number eight and nine were different, though. He saw Rodney take it, saw his muscles ripple, watched him shiver, and somehow it transferred right into John's gut. His dick, which had never gone down, went harder than ever and popped the slot of his boxers. Fuck. He was an even worse deviant than Rodney.

Rodney twitched as if wondering what the holdup was, so John gave him a couple more, but that was even worse, because Rodney went up on tiptoe, his ass flexing hard as if soaking up the sensation of the blows, and John found himself hitting him again and again, helpless to stop, peppering that round, perfect ass in a flurry. When, after the sixteenth hit, Rodney started moaning softly, John breathed out, "Jesus, Rodney," and he could hear the naked awe in his voice.

Rodney gasped in reaction, his whole body strung tight.

John took a deep breath and struck him again, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen times, Rodney making tiny whimpering noises the whole time, almost inaudible. And when John counted off the last stroke, his voice rough with finality, Rodney made a disappointed sound before sinking back onto his heels, his head hanging down.

"Your discipline is complete," John ground out, the edges of the ruler digging into his hand. It was extremely fortunate for John's modesty that Toma decided to hand him his uniform blouse just then. John gave her the ruler in exchange and she bowed her head to him.

"Well done," she said. "He looks properly disciplined." Rodney still hadn't raised his head.

 _No kidding._ John held the blouse in front of himself and turned to shield Rodney. The procedure Toma had explained earlier returned to John's foggy mind. "I'll take Dr. McKay to the penitent's alcove now, if that's all right." 

"Please," Arviles said. "I've already had your belongings transferred there. We will expect your trade in two weeks."

"Thank you, Mayor, Toma. You've been swell," John said, doing a forehead touch with the mayor and staying bowed respectfully until they left. "C'mon, Rodney. Pull up your pants."

"What? Oh, right. Thanks." Rodney smiled and fumbled with his pants until John was tempted to help him.

"Sheesh," John kidded. "I can't take you anywhere."

"Then take me home," Rodney said, his voice sultry with what sounded like innuendo. 

John did a double-take and swallowed, saying, "I'm trying. Uh, your computer. It's over there."

"My computer. Yeah," Rodney said, still smiling dopily, and finally started moving, following John's pointing finger to the penitent's alcove. Sure enough, it had all their stuff. Rodney swayed, leaning hard against John, so that he ended up having to strap Rodney into his gear. His skin was hot and damp under his shirt as John tucked it under his tac vest, and Rodney's knees almost buckled as John strapped on his holster, and he kept hand on John's shoulder.

"Jesus," John said again. "Here, hold onto this or you'll kick me when we get back." He handed up Rodney's computer and Rodney stood there hugging it while John put on his own gear and picked up their weapons. 

"You tracking?" John said. 

"Yeah. Yes, I'm good." Rodney's eyes seemed clearer, at any rate. He was smiling quietly to himself.

"Come on; let's get out of here," John said, clipping a P-90 to Rodney's vest and holstering his own weapon. He felt about a hundred percent better having it there. 

He gave Rodney a nudge to get him moving, and the two of them headed toward the big front doors. Jovas, the tall, beefy security guard, stepped out to meet them.

"So, we'll be leaving now," John said. 

"You should come again," Jovas said, eyeing Rodney in a way that made John rest his hand on his sidearm. Jovas leaned over and said to Rodney, "I can give you all the pain you could ask for."

John shoved Jovas back a step. "You can just back off, Tiny." John turned; Rodney was staring at him with grateful eyes. "Get the door."

Rodney pushed the door open and slipped out. 

Jovas grinned at John, and John bared his teeth back. "Catch you later. I'll be happy to teach you some manners."

"It's always nice to make new friends," Jovas said, nodding. He slapped John's back, hard, as he went through the door.

Rodney was already down with Ronon and Teyla, who were patting him reassuringly. John jogged down the stairs and touched foreheads with Teyla, giving Ronon a nod.

Ronon said, "I was planning on busting in if you guys took another minute."

"Sorry we took so long. But it worked out okay. The incident has been wiped clean, thanks to Rodney's cooperation."

Rodney smiled. "It was nothing. Just a little gratuitous barbarism."

Ronon let out a bark of laughter and patted Rodney on the back. 

"Does the mayor still agree to the trade?" Teyla asked.

"Yeah. We come back in two weeks with the aspirin, and they supply the bottles as requested. Together, we should be able to start a nice little market." John paused and glanced over at Rodney. "Though, I think I'll send Lorne's team next time."

"As you wish," Teyla said, raising her eyebrows. 

John settled Rodney's pack more evenly on his shoulders. "Let's get home. It's beast casserole tonight."

:::

Rodney ditched Carson as soon as he could and sequestered himself in his private lab. The whole thing had gone about as well as he'd expected, which meant Rodney would have to hide from John for the foreseeable future or likely face snide remarks about his "deviancy," or whatever ridiculous attitude Sheppard's troglodyte American military had inculcated in him. It wouldn't be his fault, considering how backward America was. In fact, Canada wasn't much better. It wasn't until Rodney joined Atlantis' international expedition and met others with his particular nonconformity that he learned to call it what it was: a quirk. So what if Rodney liked being spanked? If the feel of a hand or a strap or a ruler striking him made his blood run hot? And if he'd dreamed of having Sheppard take a belt to his ass, what of it?

It was just a quirk of his psychology, nothing to be alarmed about, as Radek had pointed out, his own quirk being an affinity for Elizabeth's boots and a desire to have her run the toe point over his crotch. 

Rodney shuddered at the thought. Well, Radek had explained that different people had different quirks, but that nothing was necessarily overruled as long as it was "safe, sane, and consensual for all parties."

Rodney couldn't imagine Sheppard would be reassured by this, however, and would probably report Rodney to the disciplinary board and wash his hands of him if he knew how close Rodney had come to jizzing in his pants from the firm, hot smack of Sheppard's ruler on his ass.

Rodney swallowed and palmed his cock, hard once again. He'd jerked off so many times since returning from the mission, he'd set a new personal record. He should thank Toma and the mayor, what's his name. The whole episode was fodder for his wank bank for the foreseeable future.

And considering how long he'd have to keep himself sequestered in here until Sheppard forgot the whole incident, it was nice to have something entertaining to do.

:::

John didn't have time to think about it at first, too busy getting cleared by Beckett and then drafting his AAR and then, God, trying to reassure Elizabeth they hadn't screwed the pooch with the Salinians. By the time he'd left her office with her reprimand ringing in his ears, Ronon's broad grin the only thing keeping him from losing his shit, all he wanted was a hot shower and a cold beer, in that order.

It wasn't until he was in the shower that the sudden image of Rodney's flushed face popped into his mind's eye, then Rodney's butt wriggling while his hands clenched on the edge of the table. The quiet, begging sounds he made—"God," John said, grabbing his dick with a soapy hand and stroking himself frantically until he shot off hard.

"Jesus Christ." John leaned against the wall and stood there trembling. He hadn't come that hard in a long freaking time. What the hell. He was sick, thinking about hurting his friend, about making him beg to be spanked.

Christ, John's balls twinged again just thinking about it. What a sick fucker.

He needed help.

:::

The next morning, he went to find Ronon in the common room. 

"You wanna spar?"

"Last time we sparred, I broke your wrist," Ronon said. "You said you were done being punished." He didn't even look up from his comic book. John recognized it, it was from the Satedan comics line "Revok the Undaunted"; the artwork was mainly dark reds and blacks, with the heroes tearing through Wraith hives swinging magic blue swords that turned anyone cocooned into super beings that couldn't be fed upon. Ronon was one of the artists working on the comic, which was written by Solen Sincha. "Is that the latest?"

"Maybe," Ronon said, a grin playing around his lips.

"What the hell, Ronon! I thought I got first dibs?"

Ronon snapped his fingers and pointed at John's belt. John looked down and then heaved a groan. He unsnapped his brand-new Ka-Bar and pulled the sheath and knife and handed them both over. "Jeez, I just got this one. This better mean I get first crack at the entire first run."

Ronon nodded and then leaned over and slid a fresh comic from a magically appearing stack of them. He handed it over.

"Sonofabitch. You played me."

"You're too easy." Ronon gave him his knife back with a laugh. 

"I wish. Thanks." John shoved the knife in his pocket and looked down at the cover. A dark figure with suspiciously wild hair struck a dramatic pose while slicing a Wraith in half. Blue flames shot from his sword, and the expression on the dead Wraith's face was truly hilarious. "This is fucking fantastic."

"Thanks."

"Give me one for Rodney, too."

"Oh, you guys talking again?"

"What?"

Ronon shrugged. "Teyla and I were the only ones saying anything on the trip back. And then neither of you showed up for dinner last night."

"We...it was...the mission...sucked."

"None of my business. Just thought it was weird."

John pondered the comic. "He didn't show either?"

Ronon shook his head.

John licked his lower lip, then held out his hand. "Gimme the comic. Please."

"Guess we'll spar later?" Ronon handed it to him, a sly grin on his face.

"Oh, shut up," John said, and left to go talk to Rodney.

:::

The pinging of the finished simulation was loud and persistent and woke Rodney from a delicious dream in which someone was pinning his legs apart in preparation of doing something wholly lascivious and pleasurable to him. When Rodney woke up, he realized his legs were caught between the rungs of the stool and edge of the lab table.

And that wasn't the simulation pinging, that was the door chime.

"Go away! I'm not here."

"Yeah, I'm totally convinced," Sheppard said through the door. 

Rodney froze and backed away. There was always the closet for an added layer of security.

"I'm not going anywhere, McKay. So, unless you have food and water stashed in there, you might as well give in."

"I have..." He counted quickly "Thirteen PowerBars! And the lab sink water is at least 85-90% potable!"

"Yummy."

Rodney pondered his options for another thirty-seven seconds before sighing heavily and going over to disengage the door lock.

"What do you want?" he said, letting Sheppard inside and locking the door again behind him.

"To apologize?" Sheppard winced. "I, um, brought a peace offering." He handed Rodney a glossy comic book. 

"Oh, is this the latest from the Satedan series?"

"Yeah! It's pretty fantastic. Revok the Undaunted dives into a culling beam to infiltrate the Hiveless One's cruiser on the cusp of the Great Colony Gathering when all the daughters of—"

"Zzzt! Zzzt. Don't ruin it for me."

"Oh, yeah. Right." Sheppard chafed his hands together. "Ronon's a terrific artist."

"Sure is." Rodney regarded Sheppard evenly. "The writing is pretty good, too."

"Yup. Yup." Sheppard wouldn't meet Rodney's eyes. "That sure was a crazy mission yesterday..."

Rodney stared. "Are you seriously making small talk with me? Because I have much better things to do than—"

"No, no! No, I just..." John rubbed his hand over the top his head, making his hair stick up even more crazily than normal. "I just, something happened, when I was administering your discipline..."

Rodney folded his arms and waited for Sheppard to start in on his small-minded bullshit. Watched as John bit his lip, started to speak, shook his head, then began again. "I just...I got confused about what I was doing, and I'm...I'm sorry, okay?"

"What?" Rodney's brain did a spit-take. 

"What!" Sheppard looked defensive now.

"Just...please repeat what you said," Rodney said. "Just so I understand."

John flushed deep red, and Rodney regarding him in disbelief. "Are you...blushing?" 

"I'm sorry I violated your trust," Sheppard said in a rush. "As your disciplinary master." He let out his breath in a great gust and stared at Rodney, face pale. "I'm a deviant," he said, sounding defiant and terrified. "I guess. I got turned on," he croaked, "while administering your discipline."

Rodney let out a broken laugh, making John cringe. "No, no," Rodney said, "don't feel—I'm not laughing at you. It's just, I thought you came here to tell me I had to report to psych for evaluation or something moronic like that, and here you come to tell me you're just as quirky as I am."

"I'm...what?"

" _Quirky_ , John," Rodney said gently, moving closer. "It's the term for it. You get turned on by unusual things, that's all."

"That's all."

"Yup. It's a sex thing. That people do. A lot. Because it's fun, because it feels good, and because it doesn't hurt anyone."

John stared at him, mouth open, looking just a bit like a mola mola after a particularly juicy jellyfish. "You mean it's _normal_?" he said, his voice breaking.

"Sure," Rodney said after a pause. Debating definitions of normal wasn't what John needed at the moment. "Don't you realize what this means?" 

John licked his lips and Rodney almost lunged at him. The only thing holding him back was the lingering panic in John's eyes. "So, you aren't mad?"

"The only thing I'm angry about is the missed opportunity," Rodney said. "I was _this close_ to coming yesterday. If I'd known you had a hard-on while spanking me, I would have come right there in my pants."

John closed his eyes and groaned. "Jesus Christ, Rodney."

Rodney smiled and moved closer. He could feel how warm John was now—another step closer and they'd be touching. "You want that? You want to spank me until I come?"

"Yes," John said, whispering hoarsely. "God, yes, Rodney." He reached out, his hand brushing the front of Rodney's shirt. "Say it's what you want." John stared into Rodney's face, his eyes still holding a thread of disbelief.

"I want it. I want it. And just so you know, I like it a little rough—"

John interrupted him by rudely grabbing his waist and pulling him in for a kiss. The comic book fluttered from Rodney's hand as he clutched desperately onto John's shoulders and kissed him back, letting John thrust his tongue in his mouth while he moaned feverishly. 

"Please, please, please," Rodney begged when John pulled back and stared at him, eyes glowing like flinty jade. "I haven't stopped jerking off since it happened and all I can think about is your bare hand on my ass smacking me until I come." 

"You're killing me." John seemed to reach a decision, because he shoved Rodney rudely over the lab bench and started yanking down his pants. "You'd better be ready for this because I'm not going to stop until you come, just like you asked for it." 

"God, yes.

"Keep your hands on the table."

"Yes, please, please, please, John."

John let out a sobbing breath at hearing his name and wrenched Rodney's BDU pants open, yanking them down. "Thank you, Ronon," he said nonsensically, and Rodney gasped as he felt John sawing through the waistband of his underwear. A moment later, John tore them clean off, leaving Rodney's ass exposed to the cool breeze of the lab's A/C. 

Rodney shivered and kept his hands right where they were.

"God, so pretty," John said, and big, rough palms rubbed over Rodney's ass cheeks, parting them and letting the air brush over his asshole. 

Rodney's begging increased. 

"You really want this," John said, his voice wondering.

"What could possibly have given you that impression?" Rodney said sarcastically. "Was it the incessant begging, perhaps? Or—" _Smack!_ Bright and hot, the pain of a slap directly on his right butt cheek registered as brilliant pleasure/pain. "Oh, God, yes, thank you. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," John said, his voice low and gravely and making Rodney whine.

 _Smack!_ Again, and again, John smacked his ass, hard and sharp, as if he knew, exactly where and how, how long to wait, how much anticipation to build, the pain just enough to make Rodney sink into deep, coasting pleasure.

"So pretty. Look how pretty your ass is, turning so red. Jesus, Rodney, the way you squirm for it, the way you love it..." John sounded as blissed out as he was. 

_Smack. Smack. Smack._

Rodney whimpered and came, John's hand coaxing him along. 

"God, John, oh my God, I love you, I love you," Rodney babbled.

The spanking stopped. John helped him over to the couch and coaxed him to sit on his lap, then rubbed his ass soothingly while Rodney floated, still babbling, he wasn't sure what. He never wanted to stop. He wanted to always be this happy, with John taking care of him.

He trusted John to. Rodney blinked, examining the thought, but there didn't appear to be anything wrong with it, so he relaxed.

"You okay, buddy?" John said, his hand rubbing up and down Rodney's back. 

"Um-hmmm."

"You want some water? I hear it's 85-90% potable."

"Yuck." Rodney stirred, nosing upward to give John a kiss. Oh, God, he could do this all the time. Kiss John whenever he wanted to. Couldn't he?

"Is this all right?"

"What? Sitting on my lap?" John sounded amused. "Sure, except for the part where you've cut off circulation to my dick."

"What? No! That's tragic." Rodney shifted a little, nudging until he felt John's hard-on, still going strong. "Huh. You should let me blow you."

John ducked his head. "Maybe later. I think you're kind of under the influence right now."

Rodney raised his eyebrows. "Of?"

"Of something, I'm not sure what. You said some things I don't think you should be held accountable for."

"Oh, this brain is never compromised, Sheppard." Rodney let himself slide downward until his head was in John's lap and he could unbutton John's BDU pants with his teeth. "Feel free to fuck my mouth."

John's moan wasn’t quite human. Neither were the other sounds Rodney coaxed out of him with his tongue and lips and fingers—but John shouldn't be surprised, really. When had Rodney ever suffered himself to be anything but the best? Still, he had to admit the way John palmed the back of his head and gently controlled him, stroking his face and hair while he used Rodney's mouth, certainly forced Rodney to up his game, to suck more anxiously, to wiggle his tongue and moan and even cry a little in gratitude at having John's pretty cock in his mouth, swallowing against it while John came deep down his throat.

"Jesus Christ," John said, stroking Rodney's cheek and staring down at him adoringly. He closed his eyes and said, "I...I love you, Rodney."

"Yes, well." Rodney cleared his throat, his heart pounding, and found he couldn't say anything at all for a moment.

"No take backs, I guess," John said, laughing a little.

"No." Rodney turned and tucked his face into John's stomach. He was wearing an incredibly soft black T-shirt, the one Rodney always razzed him for claiming was "military issue." The man took being out of uniform to an art form. Rodney snaked both arms around his waist and settled in for the long haul.

"It's not so bad, I guess, being a deviant," John mused, his tone dry.

"True, it has its perks. Thanks for the spanking, you quirky bastard," Rodney said, and John laughed softly.

"You're welcome," John said, and petted his hair as he fell asleep.

 

................................  
July 23, 2018  
San Francisco, CA

**Author's Note:**

>   
>     
> http://www.gutsygeek.com/ginch-gonch-underwear-review-giveaway/
> 
> The [Latest run of SGA comics from American Mythology](https://www.comixology.com/Stargate-Atlantis-Singularity-1/digital-comic/647779?ref=c2VhcmNoL2luZGV4L2Rlc2t0b3Avc2xpZGVyTGlzdC9pdGVtU2xpZGVy) is out!!
> 
> Yes, I whacked myself with an acrylic ruler 20 times just to make sure this wasn't too harsh a punishment for our bby.


End file.
